


cubicles

by slyblues



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, First Meetings, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Alphonse Elric, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Edward Elric, M/M, Modern Amestris AU, adult ed and high school al, one day i'll give something a title that isn't an mcr song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:21:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22184761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slyblues/pseuds/slyblues
Summary: Ed has heard it all before, so please just get your coffee and get out.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Comments: 10
Kudos: 357





	cubicles

If there was anything Ed truly hated, it was nosy fucking people. 

One peroxide blonde middle aged woman leered over the counter as Ed rolled his sleeves up. He kept his eyes down at the slow, painful trickle of espresso. 

The woman did not go away. Her face scrunched at the brow and her lips pursed. “How’d you get  _ that _ ?” Her voice was more hyena than human and Ed wished he was missing eardrums instead of an arm. 

The fuck did she expect from him?  _ Well, you see, on my seventeenth birthday I joined the Amestrian Navy with a special warfare contract, and then--  _ Screw that. Right to hell. 

“Accident.”  _ Get the message, lady.  _

“What kind of accident does something like that?” 

“Big one.”  _ Talk about clueless. God.  _

“Got something to do with the war? Those were your people, right?” 

_ Holy shit.  _ “A war. Not that one.” 

She hummed at him with a pensive little quirk in her brow. “Well you  _ are  _ from Ishval.”

Ed’s fingernails dug into his palm. He was  _ not  _ going to deck a forty year old woman with his automail,  _ no.  _ “I’m from Amestris.” 

She laughed at him and he decided she should consider herself lucky that there were other customers behind her to bear witness to the crimes he wished to commit should he do so. 

“You’re not  _ really _ from Amestris, look at your eyes.” 

“I’m really from Amestris. Small town, southeast.” 

“You don’t  _ look  _ Amestrian.” 

Ed fumbled with the  _ nasty ass  _ vanilla syrup for a moment. “Shockingly, they don’t go around assessing people's looks to decide their citizenship.” 

“Where are your parents from?” 

“Amestris.” 

“What about their parents?”

“Amestris.” 

“You’re just saying that.”

“No.” He dolloped whipped cream atop the concoction of bad espresso and sugar and thrust it at her. “And get out.” 

Her jaw dropped and her chest swelled. “You can’t speak to me like that.” 

“Yes, I can. Fuck off.” 

“Does your manager know you treat paying customers like this?” 

“Yes, he does.” 

“Well, I can’t  _ believe--”  _

“Ma’am, there’s still a line behind you.” The woman’s head spun around like a fucking owl’s. Ed’s eyes shot up. A fine specimen of tall, broody-looking, and handsome looked down at washed-up hag with a tight smile. 

Ed was astonished how easy it apparently was to get people to fuck off when you’re beautiful. 

The man stepped forward once he was unimpeded. “Sorry about that.” He actually looked apologetic, which was a new experience for Ed. He decided to mark it down in his calendar or something. 

Ed shook his head. “It’s fine. Nothing you did. Thank you.” His throat felt like it was squeezing around each word like a vice, as if he just  _ didn’t speak _ he couldn’t make himself look like an idiot. 

Thing should know better, Ed could make himself look stupid despite the laws of the universe. It was a true natural talent. Perhaps even a spiritual art of some kind. 

_ Anyways, holy shit.  _ “What can I get you today?” 

He smiled and it looked less apologetic and a lot more confident. “A cappuccino, please.” 

Ed nodded and scribbled an acronym down on a paper cup. “Your name?”

“Roy.”  _ God _ damn. 

Ed nodded again and read out his total. He tried his very hardest not to scream when Roy’s fingers brushed against his flesh palm as they exchanged 500 cens. 

It was too soon when Ed handed over the cappuccino. He made his very best attempt at not gawking as Roy swept out the door, with his long coat fluttering behind him like a very nicely tailored shadow. 

“Your mood got better real quick, huh?” Alphonse sipped his coffee and raised an eyebrow at Ed from across the room. 

Ed stared for a few seconds, mind completely blank. “You…” He sighed. “Shut the hell up.”

Al snorted. 

***

Roy came in every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday after that. At 3:30, three times a week, Roy came crashing back into Ed’s realm of consciousness like a wrecking ball, somehow better looking every single time. Ed made efforts not to think about his hottest customer after he clocked out. He would get off work, go home, make dinner, make sure Al didn’t need anything, and then pass out, every single day, and that’s how he liked it. Work shit stayed at work, home was for sleeping and not being bothered by anyone, whether they were physically there or not. 

He broke his own rule when he had to miss his afternoon shift on a Tuesday to head down to the high school. He gave himself a stern stare-down in the rearview mirror and willed the disappointment away. Surely Roy would survive one fix of slightly less great coffee. Surely  _ Ed  _ would survive one Tuesday without his fix of eye candy. He would suffer, but he would survive. 

Al was fighting at school. Ed didn’t think he would survive that revelation. The severe, serious woman who served as vice principal of Central City High let something that almost sounded like pride creep into her voice as she led Ed down the hall to the principal’s office, explaining the situation as they walked. It all made Ed’s heart ache a little, and he couldn't be angry at Al for getting angry at all those people who couldn’t let go of their ideas of what the mixed-Ishvalan kids must be like. He  _ could  _ be angry at the schools who never seemed to care about these issues until they were threatened with lawsuits. 

The vice principal stopped outside of one door, exactly like all the others, and pushed the door open to usher Ed through. The first thing Ed noticed was the reenlistment and discharge certificates on the wall. The second thing Ed noticed was Roy, sitting behind this too-grand redwood desk with his hands folded in front of him and utter surprise on his face. He opened his mouth to speak. He closed it, opened it again, and then closed it again. 

Finally, he settled on, “Mr. Elric, it’s my pleasure.” 

“Yeah, yeah, likewise. So tell me how exactly Al’s done anything wrong here?” 

“Violence is strictly against our rules, and--”

“That’s cool, but I’d like to know why tormenting others on the basis of race  _ isn’t _ .”

“Well, it is, but--”

“Then why am I here?” 

“Because Alphonse was found participating in a fight.” 

Ed shifted his weight and felt his shoulders tighten. “I'm told he was defending himself.”

“The school does not consider that good reason to strike another student.” 

“What? Why the fuck not?”

“It's--” 

“Don't answer that. I'm not going to let you punish my brother for  _ defending himself _ against the students that deserve punishment. End of.”

“It's not that easy.” 

“Isn't it?”

Roy sighed. “We don't have many options. Something  _ may  _ be able to be worked out, but he’ll have to serve the in-school suspension until a decision is reached.” 

“Fine, whatever, just. Just figure it out.” Ed signed. “We’re leaving now.” 

“What? There’s still more to--”

“Nope. Leaving. Have a nice day, thank you for your time, Mr. Mustang.”

Ed turned on his heel and gestured at Al to get up and follow behind him. 

Al got up. “Uh, shouldn't we--” 

“ _ No _ .” 

Ed stormed out, through the offices, straight to the parking lot, almost sick with the frustration and anger. 

“Mr. Elric!” There was a sharp clicking of high heels on pavement and Ed wanted to die. 

“What?” 

The vice principal held out a manila folder with a card paper clipped to the outside. “All relevant information, forms to be returned. The Mustang’s business card, should you need to contact him for any reason, he says.” 

Ed looked down at the folder and sighed. 

“He’s too much of a coward to ask you out himself, is what it means.” 

Ed choked on his breath. Al snickered behind him. 


End file.
